The Secret of Drowning
by EscapeToCity
Summary: Jack tries to move on...


Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me.

Notes: This is my first Dawson's Creek fan fiction story. Let me know what you think of it.

THE SECRET OF DROWNING

I think about him every moment; every second I see his body, I smell him- my mouth can feel his- I taste him…he's on my toast, in my coffee. He is everywhere around me.

(Forget him)

I moved back three months ago…or was it five…to this town, this place, this collection of houses and pavement and darkened childhoods and jests…this place I had fought so hard to overcome, to flee, to forget.

Worthington was perfect. I hid in the stacks and locked my doors. Listened to the Smiths and tried to avoid all those helpful, friendly faces from my past. Yet…

I find myself here again.

(You have to look forward)

And it's better, it's manageable, it somehow works. They don't outwardly hate me anymore. There are bigger concerns, larger fires to stoke these days. I just read from my books and paint the papers red and hope that something I express seeps through the numbed media-drowned pupils in the chairs. I hope, no- I pray that they hear something that makes them aspire for something greater than Capeside, greater than themselves. I pretend I care if they pass. I keep Visine and Valium handy.

I go to work everyday and I stop at the market on the way home and I buy milk. Wine sometimes. Astroglide. Cottage cheese and a single apple. _Vanity Fair_ or _GQ_. I want to talk to the other patrons but I don't. Never do. Something about them, about me, about us…it keeps us separate.

(They don't know about us)

I don't blame them at all. No one could resist thinking about what had happened. It was years ago, by the water, that cold water, on that day I can't forget. Gail Lily had just walked away from us…look, honey, there's-

(You have to try to live)

Andie calls me a walking ghost. Speaking of which, I see Jen Grams sometimes when I dream. They want me to be happy. Jen's there with him on this lush, green lawn somewhere in the sky and she's stroking his hair but he's crying and asking why he can't come home. He can't. Ever. Come. Back. Because that day, by the water, after Capefest but before the fireworks, he I were kissing by the dock when he- no, they, all of them came up behind us. Yelling die faggot or die queer or just die. Over and over and over and over. There wasn't time for anything. Everyone had gone the opposite direction. No one could see. Us. Nothing at all. We were in the deep, murky forever and holding hands and I forgot Tobey couldn't swim. My lungs were being pulled out and I was grasping for him, his shirt, anything and I swear I saw him screaming and swallowing water and begging me to do anything, anything…I saw mermaids and stars and little comic demons and I was held down by something (him? Was it him?) and I was straining for the surface and couldn't get there. Didn't want to leave him…where is he? My fault. I couldn't see his eyes…

(I won't let anything happen to you)

Just as the stars in my eyes exploded I felt two long, powerful arms sweep around me and thrust me onto the pier. I could feel cords of steeled muscle wrapping around me suddenly and then I passed out…

Pacey told me he went back and found Tobey…that he tried CPR for a very long time. Up until and after the EMTs arrived. That he cried when they pronounced Tobey dead. Such brutal finality. Three years in love, dead in three minutes.

I had never seen a man truly cry. That day, the next week. His shirt was off. He couldn't stop apologizing. I screamed for three days nonstop. He wanted to comfort me. He came to the hospital each day. After I cut myself, after Jen got sick and I really couldn't handle anything anymore. Brought me snacks and lemonade and hunky porn-cop smiles. I think he thought I could handle it.

(Can you handle it now?)

Then I left; I couldn't live in this place filled with murky water and falling stars. I left to find myself. I was afraid of what I saw in his eyes. Too fast. Too much, too soon. I was afraid of what I might feel in return.

(I'll never leave you, Jack…)

He says this and I believe it because, well, he is the law around here. I have to put my faith in something. I believe him because he is indeed beautiful. A body from the Gods and a scent like summer. Yes, he smells like the sun and tastes like honey. I run my hand up and down his ripped form and twist his nipples and bite him. Then I burrow into his sweaty chest and hope to never awake.

He understands my brand of insanity. My endless nightmares, my echoes of death; the way I claw his back and ask for punishment.

"Why didn't I die, Doug?"

When he is inside me I can't get enough; I grind into him deeper and deeper and throw us off the bed. I want to be fucked and hurt and punished and sometimes that makes him upset. I asked him the bruise me, to brand me. Made him weep, literally. But he's back every night. With a smile and conversation, and an erection. Sometimes afterwards we lie out in the dunes and he wants to kiss me. We never approach the water.

I don't want him to think this is more than it is. But he already loves me. I see it in his eyes when they sparkle and haze over, the sapphire color of safe, shallow water, of reefs and growth and hope…I've never seen eyes like his. I've seen some that came close.

(I wish you could love me back)

I'm his first and probably last guy. His closet is deeper than my regret. So we dance this dance together…a lazy, drugged dance with denial and the ever-present spectre of mortality…and yet…

I watch Doug in the doorway and he's built and towering and not slight like the other. Like me. He's impenetrable, my rock, my protector. He has a gun to my heart. He is all I can ever have. Will ever want.

"I can try."

He nods and I smile, ever so carefully…

(I will save you)

END of 'The Secret of Drowning'


End file.
